The Bestman
by v4lhalla
Summary: In a rainy grey afternoon in 221B, Baker Street, John has a serious question to make.


_Hello, everybody. Before I post my very first story, I must say that I am quite nervous to be putting out there something I wrote myself. I never felt comfortable enough to expose my thoughts out there so openly for everyone to see. So please, please, if I am not asking to much, please be kind with me. Be patient with me. And I apologize in advance if I offend someone with my poor writings. This is story is just something that popped in my head today and I don't know why, I thought that I should share it. Feel free to tell me what you think of it.  
_**I do not own anything. Sherlock belongs to BBC and it's producers. And of course, a salute to the legendary Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, for inspiring us all with his beautiful work. I am very sorry if I am offending your memory by using your characters like this, so amateurishly.  
**  
xx

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"So, Sherlock... are you coming to the wedding?"  
Sherlock took quite a long time to answer. He was standing in front of the window and the beautiful sound of the violin moved in lines across the rooms of 221B, Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson, who flipped out with happiness when she found out that John was getting married, was downstairs making biscuits and tea, in her very British form of celebration. With the sound of the violin and the scent of the fresh baked goodies, the flat was the best place to be in a rainy afternoon.  
John, still waiting for Sherlock's answer was sitting quite nervously on the chair by the fireplace. He was getting worried. Sherlock didn't say anything for a while.  
After a deep breath, Sherlock finally answered:  
"Ah, John… don't you know me at all? Weddings aren't really my thing. People usually go to weddings."  
"I know you… and I know that. I know you have no patience with people and sentimentalism. But come on, Sherlock, this is really important to me."  
"Why?" Sherlock asked like a kid who was whining to his parents because he didn't get what he wanted for Christmas. But Sherlock really didn't understand why was so important to John for him to be at his wedding. He liked Mary and John was his friend, his best friend, his only friend, but he didn't understand why his presence was so important for John since the doctor had many other friends. Better friends.  
"Why? What do you mean ''why"? John asked, confused.  
"Why is my presence so important to you on your wedding who would most probably be filled with boring people?" Sherlock now stoped playing. His violin hanging from his hands. He stared seriously at John, who was now standing and in front of him.  
"Why is your presence important? Wh-what? Do you actually, actually mean that?"  
Sherlock didn't answered, just crossed his arms tightly against his chest, staring down at John. Now that he was this close, Sherlock could notice how small John was. He knew that, of course he knew that, but he knew it from distance. Now John was close.  
"Sherlock… ugh… how…" John stuttered, finding it difficult to keep patience with the bloody stupid genius "Sherlock, listen to me. You know how difficult it is to me to do these things, but… bloody hell, you are my best friend, you arse. I may have no significance to you, whatsoever, but you do mean a lot to me. I was… so alone, and when I met you I felt like I could suddenly breathe again. I don't think I'll ever fully forget the two years that you… you know…" John swallowed hard, Sherlock looked down, looking surprisingly ashamed "but it doesn't matter now. I just want you to be there. I want to you to be by my side on this new chapter of my life. You and Mary are the best things that have ever happened to me. And… ah, Sherlock… you know what? Screw it. I really do care about you. I love you. And even though I hate you and your guts, I love you. And I want you to be at my wedding and I want you to be my bestman!" John said the final words so quickly he almost thought that Sherlock didn't understand and right now, after this spectacularly extravagant speech, he was feeling quite embarrassed for his clumsy words.  
He began to open his mouth to apologize when Sherlock did something most unexpected. He hugged John. He hugged John so tight he could barely breathe. Sherlock was the last person in the world that you would expect to hug you, but there he was, holding John against his chest. John wondered how many years had passed since Sherlock last touched somebody like this.  
Just as sudden as it started, it ended. Sherlock let go of John and stepped back quickly.  
The only consulting detective in the world and the army doctor stared at each other like it was the first time they met.  
After a few seconds of embarrassed silence, John shyly asked:  
"So… um, can I take that as a yes? Will you be my bestman after all?"  
Sherlock's answer was nothing but a laugh and John caught himself laughing with him. It felt really good to be there with his friend, especially after he started playing the violin again.  
Mrs. Hudson felt like that was a good time to come in and served the lovely cuppa for everyone, smiling like that was the best day of her life. John never felt so at peace.  
Later that night, after receiving a round of applause from John and Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock put the violin on the floor, bowed to his friend and his landlady, and sat down in his usual chair. He glanced at John with a raised eyebrow after hearing a small laugh coming from his friend's direction.  
"So, " said John, jokingly "when can I tell everyone on my blog that you hugged me?"


End file.
